Flying
by Simone Magus
Summary: Snape tells Hooch a story about what he used to do for fun. It's getting nasty. What happens now?
1. it doesn't take much

Many thanks to JKR for providing the setting and characters.

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He would never admit how much he liked to watch her fly. 

Arms folded into his robes, he stood where he had a good view of the Quidditch field. Still too early for many students to be out and about, the grounds were empty except for the witch on her broomstick and the wizard on the castle wall.

"Your Seeker needs a bit more time practicing, Professor, if Slytherin plans on winning this year."

Snape glanced towards the stands, where Malfoy hovered on his broomstick beside a group of Slytherin girls led by Pansy Parkinson. He grimaced and wondered if he could get away with turning the blasted boy into a ferret. Perhaps Potter would oblige him by knocking Malfoy senseless during the match.

"Perhaps he just needs to be the favorite son of Hogwarts," he remarked icily.

Madame Hooch laughed, her golden eyes narrowed into the setting sun as she watched the students practice. She idly tapped her broom on the ground.

"You sound positively jealous of Potter," she said.

Snape snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. Damn the woman for always being so calm, he thought. Of all the faculty, Hooch and Dumbledore were the only ones who didn't bristle at his biting remarks. It was a petty frustration, and one that goaded him further even when he knew he should walk away. Snape almost liked talking with her. It was challenging.

"I have no desire for celebrity, or fan clubs."

"Can you imagine, a Severus Snape fan club? You might need a haircut for your photographs."

Sneering, he stalked off to the castle with her laughter ringing behind him.

"Waiting for me?"

Snape turned, eyes glittering as Madame Hooch approached. The sound of her boots rang like ice cracking off the stone, and in spite of the chill she wore her usual shortened flying robes. 

"Good morning, Madame Hooch."

"Severus," she said pointedly, "I do have a given name."

"Good morning, Hana." His mouth twisted in a half smile as he realized she was carrying two brooms. "Working on new tricks for the students?"

"Actually I thought you might like to join me, since you've been out here so often lately." She chuckled at his raised eyebrows. "My nickname on the team was Hawk Eye for a good reason."

"I know," he murmured, taking a broom from her hand. "You won the World Cup three times for Moravia with those eyes. One of the fastest seekers ever."

"I didn't know you followed Quidditch."

"I don't study all the time," he replied distantly. Deciding that it was early enough that no one else would see, he offered his arm to Hana Hooch.

He couldn't figure out why she didn't taunt him, the way anyone else would have. Confessing an interest in Quidditch, tacitly admitting he watched her fly! That was certainly enough to get a few chuckles from the staff table, and Merlin knows the students would have a field day with such information. Unconsciously frowning at the third year Potions class, Snape drummed his fingers on his desk. The students kept their eyes on their frogs and bubbling potions, hoping to avoid rousing the absent minded dragon. 

Rousing himself enough to dismiss the class with only a few parting barbs, Snape paced through the dungeon corridors. His robes flapped, wings around his shoulders, the edges curling round the floor and his feet. Without pausing he took a staircase heading upwards.

The sun had already set by the time he reached the top of the astronomy tower. This was one of his favorite places at Hogwarts, above everyone and everything. Still golden on the western horizon, the sky was slowly fading into blue night. A crescent moon gleamed brightly. He inhaled deeply, resting his hands on the wall. Some things did not change, he thought wryly.

In the twilight Snape examined the Dark Mark on his forearm. It could rage even here, or someone could stumble upon him. There were precious few safe places left. His fingers traced the almost invisible scars on his forearm before Snape pulled his sleeve down. 

Stars appeared as the darkness settled over Hogwarts. Hours later he was still counting and tracing constellations in his head. Astronomy was one of the few things other than Potions he found interesting enough to devote any time to studying.

"I didn't know you liked astronomy either. Curiouser and curiouser, Severus." Hooch leaned against the archway, watching him.

"Are you following me around?" Snape spit out, rising to his feet.

"Why would I follow you?" Her eyes were guileless. Point, he thought.

"I should think you have other things to do."

"Am I interrupting something?" she asked, stepping forward. Moonlight tinted her spiky hair silver, and she cocked her head at Snape.

"No." He turned away from her and stepped to the edge of the platform, looking out over the forest.

"You missed dinner."

"I'm sure I wasn't missed."

She was silent, and he grimly added a point to his side. 

"Severus..."

"Yes?"

"Shall I see you in the morning, then?"

Snape turned his head slightly, eyes dark and unreadable. A slight nod and he swept past her as a shadow.


	2. mornings

Many thanks to JKR, Melynda and Allosia.

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Fall. Glorious fall. Leaves turning, dropping the wind, the hint of ice at night. The smell of wood smoke and earth, the faint scent of decay. He loved this season.

Despite himself, Snape met Hooch the next morning, and the morning after that. They did not talk much, just looped the Quidditch field a few times before beginning their acrobatic wanderings. Hooch never imagined the professor in his voluminous robes spending much time on a broom. They only slowed him down a little in the air, and provided well for dramatic effect. She kept her hair and robes short, an old habit from her days on professional Quidditch teams. Back then, it hadn't been gray. 

Banishing her musings, Hooch drifted up behind Snape and seized the ends of his robe. With a deft maneuver she flipped them over his head and was rewarded with a voluble stream of curses from the black lump struggling in the air.

"Shouldn't wear those robes to fly," she called out to him. Snape shook his head, and for a moment she almost saw him smile. Perhaps he was just squinting at the sun rising over the trees. They slowly spiraled back down to the ground. 

"You must have been at Hogwarts when I playing the professional circuit," she began as they walked back to the castle. "Did you play Quidditch?"

"No." He straightened his collar, refastening an errant button. "Too many other things to do."

"Like what?" Snape's eyes flickered towards her.

"Why?"

"Just curious."

"I was studying."

"Of course," Hooch nodded. "You went to school with James Potter and Lucius Malfoy, didn't you?"

This time Snape stopped. His eyes flashed dark fire, and Hooch wondered what kind of nerve she hit there.

"Why?" 

"Curiosity." Icy fingers dug into her forearm, and Snape glared at her, eyes demanding another answer.

"Merlin's ghost, you are a suspicious bastard Severus." Angrily she jerked her arm free and jabbed a finger at his face. "what, did you have a crush on him? Worried I'll tell the students?"

Snape's mouth dropped open and she stifled the urge to laugh at his expression, something between horror and fury. Hooch turned and headed towards breakfast, allowing herself a small smile for reducing Severus Snape to speechlessness. 

"Point," he whispered, and followed her to the Main Hall.


	3. raining

Many thanks to JKR for the characters, to Melynda for putting up with me, and to Allosia for understanding. Please forgive weirdness as I'm typing this all off the cuff right now.

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"nothing can stop me now, nothing can stop me now, nothing can stop me now..."

Fingers curled into the sheets, he stared into the dark. Another nightmare, Voldemort's voice echoing hollowly in his head. Even dreaming, Snape could not bring himself to scream. This knowledge existed beyond expression. He rocked a little, shifting and attempting to relax. Snape wondered if Voldemort would kill him or drive him insane before the teaching did.

It wouldn't be quite so vexing if the students showed more intelligence, and if he didn't have to ignore the vast stupidity rampant in his own House. When Dumbledore had offered him the position, Snape had taken it with a grim sense of satisfaction. Now it was simply depressing, to realize what generations of selective inbreeding accomplished. Snape enjoyed some of the more quick witted ones, though he didn't spare them from the caustic remarks or merciless scrutiny. He shook his head. Why couldn't it have been a nice research position instead?

Even blind, Snape's fingers could find the sigil on his forearm. All the answers lay here, in a choice made in calculated desperation. When every step a younger man had taken in faith betrayed him, it had seemed the most logical choice. Snape dragged his fingernails over the skin. If it were so easy, he thought bitterly.

Dawn arrived before sleep, and Snape debated whether he ought to get up and find that his broomstick. Damn that woman. He reached over to the shelf nearest the bed and snatched a small crystal globe. It was one of the odd gifts he received every Christmas from Albus, made to show the weather at any given time for the area. 

"Hah, rain." Snape sighed with contentment and fell back onto the pillow. No need to get up then. He certainly didn't intend to fly in this weather. Though that madwoman Hooch might be out there anyway. Setting the globe back on the shelf, he drew the bedspread over his head and waited in the dark.

"Do you always sit up here?"

"Do you always follow me? Snape stared stonily at the sky as Hooch settled herself on the parapet. Perhaps if he kept methodically counting stars, she might not bother him...

"I thought you might still be sulking," she said. "You've been flapping around the school spreading terror. Three more hysterical students and Poppy will be after you." 

"It's certainly not my fault they are brainless children," Snape snapped, drawing his robes close around himself. He noticed her stare. "Compare me to a bat, and I'll turn you into one. I've had quite enough of that from the Weasley twins this week."

"Ha. How about vulture then?" she grinned.

"Very fitting. Repulsive death eaters, aren't they?" he sneered.

"Oh stop it Severus." She sighed and ran a hand through her silvered spikes. 

"Stop what?" Damn it, the woman infuriated him.

"That was hardly up to your usual standards." Point again. She was in the lead. His fingers twitched in his pocket.

"And don't even think of pulling out that wand." That earned a wry laugh.

"Ah yes, the benefits of teaching," Snape sighed. "The ability to spot mischief before it even begins."

"I just know how you think," she smiled.

"I don't think so." Hooch smiled again, in a way that made Snape want to strangle her. The eyed each other for a long moment before the rain started up again, mist shading into fat, freezing drops. 

"You should go inside, wouldn't want to muss your hair," Snape hissed, drawing the hood of his cloak up.

"And you'll stand here in the rain til you're sure I'm gone." She shook her head, water already dripping down her forehead. "No. The students ought to be asleep by now, I'm sure they won't notice us walking together. Unless you're afraid of compromising your reputation?" 

His lip curled slightly before Snape mastered his expression. With a silent, mocking nod he turned on his heel and strode under the archway. Hooch shook water from her eyes and mouthed, "Point Severus."


	4. blood

Many thanks to JKR for the characters, and to those who had provided much inspiration for this story.

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With steady hands, Snape poured an oddly glowing liquid into a heavy glass vial. It was his newest assignment, ingredients for some vile amusement of Lucius Malfoy's. A pity he wouldn't force-feed it to his brainless son. Task completed, Snape locked the vial carefully and securely into a box. He would deliver it tonight, when the Dark Lord summoned.

Snape raked his hair back and stared grimly at the desk, unseeing. It was lucky for him, that Voldemort had not discovered his own treachery but the less serious breach by another Death Eater. Corinne Lavalois would be punished and most likely killed tonight, though Snape didn't doubt Voldemort might have more excruciating plans for her.

For a while at least, he needed to think about something else. 

Unbidden, the image of Hana Hooch appeared. That woman. Why did she bother him so much? As a student at Hogwarts, he had indulged in a secret passion for Quidditch and followed the professional scene avidly. Hooch had been the Quidditch star of the time, one of the fastest and most fearless seekers ever to play. Everyone is Hogwarts had a poster of her, a team shirt, animated figurines or some such trinket.

From a high shelf, he pulled down an old album of wizard photographs. He kept precious few around, and mostly out of sight. Past a few pictures of his childhood and a few scattered papers, there was a photo taken at the Quidditch World Cup game just before his fourth year. Italy versus Moravia, billed as the match of the century and one of the most violent games on record. 

Young Hana Hooch grinned wildly up at him, waving a fist with the golden snitch trapped inside. Her hair was short, dark brown and ruffled. She was a youthful 27 in this picture, only a few years away from her retirement. The eyes were exactly the same though. Snape spread his hands on the page, framing her face. It had shocked him to find her at Hogwarts when he arrived to teach Potions. That smile still teased the corners of her mouth, in an older face with graying hair. For one brief instant he imagined himself ten years older, and then ten years younger before he shook her hand. 

Dreams, all swept away. Snape put away the album. Best not to dwell on such thoughts. There was much work to be done tonight.

_____ 

Once inside his room, Snape stripped off his robes, forcing himself to unbutton by hand every single article of clothing instead of whisking them off by wand. He set his jaw hard against the blood that streaked him, reddish brown on the green velvet. Much as he wanted to incinerate the garments, it might seem a trifle odd, and he was rather fond of these dress robes. Instead he tossed them into the floor, for later when he calmed.

For now, he needed to clean himself. Naked he strode into the bathroom to run a shower. Watching the water steam and run down the dark marble tub, his rage finally let loose.

"Damn," Snape hissed and slapped his hand into the wall. Scraped his knuckles repeatedly, an old bad habit, and old trick from before he learned how to control himself. Only rarely did he allow himself this. The rough stone tore the flesh of his knuckles. At least this time it was his own blood running down his arm.

He scrubbed until his skin burned, until all Corinne's blood was gone, even from his hair. Damn Malfoy for being so grandiose about it, he snarled silently. Flinging blood all over the place like holy water in a church. His affected fastidiousness saved him often, but not tonight. Voldemort had offered, demanded, that the others participate in Lavalois's punishment. Exhausted, Snape sat heavily under the spray.

Her crime? Exposure, a botched assignment, plans gone awry. Far lesser sins than any he held on his own soul, but enough to incur dreadful wrath. Voldemort had particularly wanted Hermione Granger's parents dead. Lavalois should have been able to execute the task without any trouble. She had whined in a pathetic pleading way, though she had to know it would do no good. Or perhaps she didn't.

Corinne expected the curse from Voldemort, expected the punishments, the castigation. She didn't expect to be given over to Lucius Malfoy and the other Death Eaters. The sheer horror in her face had brought a terrible, sad smile to Snape's face. It was his fault after all.

After a little time, Voldemort had left them, sure that it would be finished to his liking. Malfoy's ministrations slowly became cruder, and Corinne's hoarse voice echoed like a ghost around them. Snape had cradled her head in the last minutes, watching her gray eyes bleed and her broken mouth move helplessly, soundlessly. He could not summon much pity for Corinne Lavalois, a woman who killed children before their parents for so many years. Yet, still...

Snape had betrayed Corinne. Arranged for her information to be wrong, and for Hermione's parents to be safely away. He held no particular affection for the Muggle girl and her family, but Dumbledore had been adamant. Never had he asked Snape to put himself so directly in danger by intervening in Voldemort's plans, but this involved one of Harry Potter's closest friends. Above all, Harry Potter and his friends must be protected, he said. They had argued for an hour at least, pacing the study until Snape had thrown his hands up in defeat. He could see the logic, he admitted. He could not admit that his heart felt the same way.


	5. scones

As always, thanks to JKR for the characters and setting. Thanks also to the many people who seem so interested in this that I have to keep writing.

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Under the screams, a heavy sound like thunder reverberated. Snape closed his eyes, hoping that whatever was coming wouldn't see him, wouldn't find him. The rumbling grew louder, more distinct. It was on top of him. Unwillingly, he opened his eyes...

And found himself in his chambers, with someone banging on his door extremely early in the morning. 

"Draco Malfoy, if that's you out there..." Snape growled. Probably wanted to have some smug conversation about his father's prowess at toturing women to death. He tugged on a robe thrown over a nearby chair. With a muttered curse, Snape flung open the door.

Except that it wasn't Malfoy. It was Madame Hooch, holding her broomstick ready in one hand to strike his door again.

"Finally!" she exclaimed. Confusion, annoyance and curiosity flitted across his face as Hooch pushed herself into the room. He allowed the door to swing shut.

Hooch stood in the center of the room, turning to take in the bookcases, the old polished furniture, and the empty fireplace. She looked at him from the corner of her eye.

"Where have you been?"

"I hardly think my whereabouts are your concern, Madame." Snape drew the folds of her robes closely and stared with the utmost ice he could produce at this ungodly hour. Hooch hissed and stalked towards him.

"You're gone for a day and half, Dumbledore tells me nothing and you've got blood all over those clothes there," she said quietly. Snape started and she smiled a little cruelly. "I don't think all of that came from you. Would you like to explain?"

"I most certainly would not." He didn't move, not even to hide the angular scratches on his hand. 

"Damn it Severus, what the hell is going on?"

"Get out. Now."

"No."

He closed his eyes, summoning up any reserves of stillness left inside. 

"Hana Hooch, leave my rooms this instant before I lose my temper with you." Glittering black, Snape's eyes fixed on Hooch's. She moved forward, tension sparking the air between them, so close he could almost feel her breath.

"You still haven't told me what's going on." 

"Damn it."

He grabbed her arm, intending to drag her bodily out the door if necessary. However, it didn't occur to him that he was manhandling a Quidditch player. Wood cracked at his temple, and Snape cursed furiously, digging his fingers into her sleeve. Pain blossomed brilliantly behind his eyes, and Hooch jabbed him in the ribs with the broom before he managed to grab hold of it.

"Get your hands off me, young man," Hooch said harshly, and the tone of her voice was so startling that Snape almost obeyed.

"Not if you're going to hit me again," he spat. "Now get out!" Snape almost shouted, and felt a slight tremor in his legs. Merlin's ghost, he was still so tired and brawling with Hooch was one of the last things he wanted to do right now. One more good shove and he might yet get her out the door. Wrenching the broom from her hands, Snape tossed it on the floor. Hooch made as if to backhand him, and he grabbed her wrist, jerking her arm up over her head. 

"This would be funny, if it wasn't so infuriating..."Hooch's voice trailed off into a sharply indrawn breath, and her grip slackened. Following her eyes, Snape realized his sleeve had slipped up his forearm, but... oh hell, his left arm.

Leaving the professional world hadn't dimmed any of her faculties. Hooch slammed Snape into the wall beside the door, hard enough to take his breath away. He winced, head bouncing painfully off the stone. Before he could breathe again, or even open his eyes, she whipped out her wand and bound him magically. Just as Snape wondered if this was all a very bizarre dream, Albus Dumbledore walked in.

"Not interrupting anything, am I?" Dumbledore asked merrily. He carried a tray of breakfast tea and pastries.

"Albus! This man is a Death Eater!" Hooch's face was pale and she gripped her wand tightly, as if she expected Snape to burst free at any moment. Dumbledore set the tray down on a table.

"Was a Death Eater Hana, was. He is not a servant of Voldemort anymore, though the mark will remain for the rest of his life. It can not be removed." He said the last a bit sadly.

"You know about this?" she asked incredulously.

"I have known for some time," Dumbldore answered, munching on a blueberry scone. "Severus walks a dangerous path, but that is his story to tell, if he so chooses. I must ask for your discretion here, Hana. There is much at stake."

"Of course Headmaster," Hooch nodded.

"Perhaps you ought to unbind Severus too."

"Oh!" She at least had the grace to blush.

"Scones anyone? Ah, well I should check on the students and make sure the Weasleys aren't handing out those exploding muffins again. I'll leave you two to breakfast." Dumbledore grinned and left, pockets full of scones.


	6. preparation

Many thanks to JKR for the characters and the setting. Forgive my long silence, and I'm grateful for all the interest and comments shown by the readers. More chapters coming soon.

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Silence wreathed the room, around and between them. So very tempting to just remain against the wall, Snape mused. To just stay right here and not leave... A light tap of his battered hand against the wall brought him home. Much to be done today, appearances to make. The world...

Hooch watched him, her face blank. She didn't move at all even when Snape moved to pick up her broom and offer it back. A question remained in her eyes. 

"I don't know why you came down here..." he began. She offered no explanations. Snape sighed. This was so hard. Not as hard as it had been in the beginning, but he hadn't explained himself for so long.

"It is understandable that you should wish to not speak to me again," he said. At this, Hooch started a little, and something came back into her. She shook her head, and Snape drew in another breath. Though he could not name this odd apprehension, the care with which he chose his words. 

"Tonight?" 

"Where?"

The day blurred, class after class. Students rushing through the halls, the usual noise and commotion. Most of all he longed for quiet. the quiet might bring demons, but it was blessedly empty. 

Snape watched Harry Potter with hooded eyes that afternoon. This was the boy he was supposed to protect. The boy on whose shoulders so much hope rested, the boy who lived. It if weren't for the strangeness of Potter's life, Snape might have despaired. 

It was difficult to be his usual self on these days. 

"Albus, why didn't you just use Obliviate oh her?"

"Severus," Dumbledore said reprovingly. "I am not about to do that to someone unless it is truly necessary." 

Snape hissed under his breath as he paced Dumbledore's office. He was not looking forward to this evening. Reliving the death of Corinne for the Headmaster once was more than enough, and he didn't relish explaining it again to anyone. Much less to her. 

"Why was she there so early in the morning?" Eyes twinkling, Dumbledore steepled his fingers and smiled. Snape rolled his eyes.

"Gods above it certainly wasn't for that."

"You never know."

"Albus, are you seriously thinking that Hana Hooch and I..." The consternation on Snape's face brought a chuckle from Dumbledore.

"No, no my friend," he smiled. "Your secret is safe with me." At that, Snape went almost a whiter shade of pale. 

"Come now Severus, it's time to eat."

He ignored her at dinner, concentrated on the mushrooms and potatoes on his plate, the glint of the silverware above the china. Though a half dozen people sat between them, he could feel her presence, a sun behind his eyelids. 

The others were excusing themselves, and there was not much time to put it off. Blinking, he wondered if he had actually eaten anything. 

"I'll meet you on the tower." Her whisper startled him, and his fork dropped with a clatter lost in the the din of students heading to the House common rooms. From the corner of this eye, he detected the fine swish of her robes.

The sky smelled of ice, with wisps of cloud. Moonlight bathed the stones silver and bright. A pity this night would hear his confession once more.

"Perhaps you would like to tell me exactly why you chose to burst into my chamber this morning?" It pleased him to see her guilty start, as she turned around. 

"Curiosity again, Severus. Though I don't expect you to accept that answer." Snape snorted indelicately. They stood far apart, as if the distance armored them. Hooch broke the long silence.

"Why did you do it?"

"Join the Death Eaters or betray them?"

"All of it."

"That is a very long story."

"I have time."


	7. enduring

Many thanks to JKR, for the characters and setting to construct this story. Also to Melynda and Allosia, and all the others who have encouraged me to write.

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For a moment he wondered what would happen. Possibilities spun in his head, this old habit of constructing a thousand lifetimes out of a single moment. 

Hooch cocked her head at him. Too calm, he thought. She is too calm to be waiting for this moment. Snape paced carefully to the parapet, looking out over the sleeping land. 

"I am a tool." His voice was low, pitched for her ears alone. "After Voldemort's fall I turned myself in, accepted my fate and my punishment. If I had known I wouldn't wind up in Azkaban..." Here he sighed heavily, and she could see his fingers tighten on the wall. She opened her mouth, but his harsh voice cut her off.

"Don't say a word Hana Hooch. Not yet." Satisfied in her silence, Snape continued.

"The details of.. all of this, are not so important right now. What you should understand is that I am a double agent, now working for the side of the Light."

"How?" 

"I go when he calls. I listen, I watch. I do what I can to keep others safe."

"How do we know you are not just using us?"

"Dumbledore seems to trust me," he said, only the faint tinge of bitterness to his voice. "The Ministry keeps me on a short leash indeed."

"Do you kill for him?" Hooch's eyes gleamed in the dark.

"When I have no other choice," he snapped.

Hooch closed the distance between them, and grabbed the front of Snape's robes. He made as if to bat her hand away, but Hooch's voice stayed his hand. 

"Do you and Lucius enjoy yourselves?" Her voice was cold and angry, yet Snape could not help a small mirthless laugh.

"Lucius is so bloody obvious, he should just give up the pretense..."

"Lucius Malfoy killed my husband."

Dawning comprehension Held his eyes on Hooch's face.

"I came home from the Quidditch World Cup celebrations, after we defeated Scotland, the year Arden Elkins fell off his broom right into the stands," Hooch said slowly. "Misha had stayed home, because he was still sick. Didn't know how long the game would go, and it was wise since it took about six hours... Not that it mattered." Bitterness, rage and pain threaded through her voice, and Snape shivered slightly under her golden gaze.

"I could see the Dark Mark in the sky, as I ran to the door. Lucius was sitting there. In the midst of the blood! They couldn't be satisfied with just using the Unforgivable curses on Misha, they had to torture him. There were others in the room, but I remember Malfoy because I'd seen him before." The name broke on her lips, and she glared at him.

"Were you there? One of those faces I didn't know?"

"No." 

"Are you very sure?"

"Yes damn it all!" Snape shouted. "I remember Lucius coming back to Hogwarts that year, so full of himself because he'd finally been initiated into Voldemort's cult. We laid in bed and talked about how it felt to kill someone that night. Is that what you wanted to know Hooch?" Snape's hands trembled slightly at his sides, restrained with years of will. 

"How did you know Lucius Malfoy?" asked Snape abruptly.

"It was after the Cup game against Italy," Hooch said. "The Moravian Committee threw an enormous party to celebrate. Lucius and his father were there, hobnobbing as usual."

"The little bastard couldn't have been more than fourteen or fifteen," she continued. "Tried to pick me up, one of those fan boy crushes. When I didn't succumb immediately to his charm, he sulked quite obviously."

"Lucius doesn't deal well with refusal." Not a flicker of emotion showed on Snape's face. Hooch's laugh was not amused.

"Not at all, I should say. Imagine waiting years and coming back to kill the husband of someone you once had a crush on."

"You seem to be telling more secrets than I tonight," Snape said quietly. He wanted to confess that he could, and did imagine such things. It wouldn't help the situation though, to be so honest with anyone but himself.

"No more than necessary."

"Is this necessary?"

"It is." Her grip tightened on the front of Snape's robes, and he braced himself, lest the woman shove him into another wall. Snape nodded mutely. Hooch looked away, somewhere back in time.

"I remember crying out, perhaps Misha's name. Because he laughed, and stood up to show me the blood on his hands and his clothes.

"That was the year you retired."

"Yes. I hadn't the heart to fly."

"I don't remember your husband mentioned at all."

"The Ministry covered it up neatly. It was part of my contract for Moravia, Keeping Misha out of the public eye so we could have some peace."

Looking at her, looking out into the dark, made something twist painfully inside Snape's head. Only now could he connect his whispered conversation with Lucius to Hana's painful expression. Outlined in starlight, her proud profile hinted at years of grief, and a rage unabated. Involuntarily Snape raised his hand to her.

"Hana, I'm sorry.." he began. 

She slapped him, hard across the face. Snape tasted blood, a coppery flower in his mouth. Yet he held himself perfectly still, waiting. The air stirred the ends of hair and robes. Hooch wondered if she were looking at a ghost. If so, it was not a ghost she wanted to see. Her fingers clenched as she shifted her weight from foot to foot.

"No." His voice was commanding. "You only get one shot." Snape grasped her arm firmly, and they stood locked in tension, and in anger. Hooch grimly held her ground, refusing to slacken the forward pressure of her fist. Around them the wind picked up, and with it the scent of winter. Soon snow would come down.

Snape however was acutely conscious of the heat of the body so close to his own, and the blood rushing through his own. The slap had awakened something, and much as he wanted to escalate the situation past the point of return, Snape knew it was unwise. Too much at stake to play these sorts of games, he thought. The darkness gnawed at him, desires never fully purged or fulfilled. If he held on much longer... Which a snarl, he twisted Hooch's arm behind her back and pulled her up on her toes and put his mouth to her ear.

"Don't fight with Death Eaters unless you know you're going to win," Snape hissed. She rewarded him with a small shudder, and for a moment he allowed himself to enjoy it before he pushed her away roughly.


	8. dreams again

Many thanks to JKR for the characters and the background to move the pieces around. Thanks also to all those who have reviewed, emailed and expressed interest over coffee. Short chapter, but I hope you're enjoying this as much as I am. 

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"I have no real desire to continue discussing this tonight," Snape said. He watched Hooch circle him warily. His fingers flexed, curved, savoring the brief memory of control and the quiver of flesh beneath them. In the frigid air, her breath was visible and quick.

"Nor do I, but I have no answers from you," replied Hooch, still out of arm's reach. He cursed himself inwardly for noticing, for wanting. 

"Answers are dangerous."

"Why in Merlin's name did you choose to brand yourself with evil?"

"That is not up for discussion right now, nor my reasons for betraying those I swore allegiance to for life."

"Whose blood was it?"

"Another Death Eater." Grinning slightly madly, he waited for the next, almost certain question. Why, why, why...

"Why?"

"For failing an assignment."

Snape turned away. Gods, he wanted to sleep. This day had involved entirely too much talking.

Alone, he moved silently in the semi-darkness of his rooms. A long acquaintance with the objects therein had left him with little need for light to navigate.

Snape paused before one of the floor to ceiling shelves, which held an odd assortment of objects. Some were pieces leftover from his youth, others collected over the years as talismans for one time r another. Snape hefted the steel and smiled a little. Sad and a little strange that someone thought steel and faith were the only way to keep back the darkness. Still, it had a comforting weight, and he could easily imagine killing with it. He replaced the cross bound in red copper wire and headed for the relative safety of the bed.

The dreams go deep, deeper still.

He dreamed. Of her pale flesh, colored with trails of blood. Of her wordless howls, her ragged breath as his fingers slowed the flow of blood in her throat. The same blood that Drenched his mouth when Malfoy bid him to taste while Voldemort looked on impassively from his chair. Snape kissed the wounds on her hands, where the blood dripped between her fingers, and felt Corinne flinch. Lucius always was too dramatic, his cravings indiscriminate. He'd licked Snape's lips afterwards.

"What do you want?"

The voice hissing at his ear, breath over his skin, the finger tips resting on his neck, tightening slowly until they held his head firmly up, by the scruff like a kitten. 

"Satisfaction."

"Not funny, Severus."

Fingers stroked his lips, his chin, up over the bones of his face, tracing the lines worn in his skin from cares and pain. He couldn't see anything. There was only the voice, and the caresses that began as feather touches and slowly became needles. He screamed while the sensations combined unbearably and he fell over the edge into deeper blackness...

...only to open his eyes in his own bed, panting and shivering.

She would go to Dumbledore of course. There was little more he could tell, and would respect the intimacy of what he did know. story would lack some of the finer, delicate details but only the essentials mattered. Besides, why would Hooch want the reasons behind his actions? Few asked and even fewer understood. Snape watched Hooch surreptiously at breakfast. She neither spoke nor acknowledged him, save for a curt nod. Snape couldn't decide if it was more irritating that she obviously knew he didn't want to speak to her, or that she wasn't speaking to him. He found the thought vexing and turned it over and inside out many times in his mind on the way to his lessons. 


	9. perfect blue

Many thanks to JKR for the characters and the setting.

Thanks also to those who have expressed such interest and delight in this story. The comments and curiosity are deeply appreciated. I shall try to get more done. This chapter comes after three computer crashes and one extremely corrupted file.

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Bright, bright blue. Cerulean blue, like the lake. Both the sky and the lake were composed of unknown numbers of atoms, absorbing and reflecting only the bluest strand of the rainbow. A perfect, beautiful blue.

Perched high on the castle walls, Hana hooch regarded the sky and swung her feet lazily. Under this blue, noisy students milled in the courtyard before heading off to Hogsmeade. A few professors moved amongst them, ostensibly making the trip to replenish various stores and enjoy the afternoon away from the school. Not that the students required chaperones, but Dumbledore felt that someone was needed to keep a watchful eye. Some still doubted that Voldemort had truly returned, but the Headmaster was adamant. A careful watch would be kept.

As if the incidents of the last year were not enough for anyone. Four times, the Dark Mark had fouled the sky this summer. Hermione Granger's parents had escaped by mere luck from the evil. The quizzical Muggles were now living under the protection of Ministry wizards. Hooch could see Hermione below, gesturing with great excitement to the Weasley twins, her riotous hair stirred by the breeze. A pang struck her heart, for as much as she was grateful the girl's parents were spared, Hana felt envious that the same luck had eluded her.

The bruise on her arm had faded mostly, but Snape had not spoken to her again after the night on the tower. He skipped meals, and if he watched her fly in the mornings, he hid himself well. For her part, Hana had not tried to speak to him. Avoiding confrontation was not to her liking, and she used the time to pry as much information as possible from Dumbledore.

"He's not the one responsible for Misha's death," the Headmaster gently reminded her on afternoon, when her temper flared once again.

"That does not excuse him Albus."

"I'm not trying to make excuses for Severus, my dear. I only point out that he has changed from what he once was."

"But how much? And why?" Hooch paced the length of the carpet, hands behind her back. 

"He has suffered much, Hana. More than I know, probably."

"Probably not enough."

"That is not for us to decide." Dumbledore's voice held a note of warning. "We are not judges here, nor are we meant to be."

Hooch turned away, unable to reply. Sometimes she wondered how much Dumbledore did know about the darkest years of her life.

Madwoman Trelawney's irritating mannerisms drove Snape away from yet another meal. Bad enough that Hooch was ostensibly ignoring him; he didn't want to spend an hour listening to grand predictions of doom flow endlessly towards his ear. 

Ignoring the dull ache in his stomach, Snape settled into his chair in the Potions classroom and looked askance at the pile of papers awaiting grades. Assigning homework as punishment always ended up giving him a headache. Perhaps Dumbledore would let Filch reopen a dungeon room or two...

"You never did tell me your long story."

Cursing, Snape wiped up the spilled ink before it soaked the parchments. He furrowed his brow at Madame hooch.

"Do you not have any manners?"

"When did those become necessary with you?"

"As if you can not plainly see, I am working at the moment," he said dismissively. "Perhaps some other time."

She did not reply, walking up the aisle and planting herself with crossed arms on top of the first row of desks. The woman didn't have the slightest intention of leaving, Snape thought. He hissed, a sound that drove many a student into a dead faint.

"You aren't going to frighten me off like that Severus."

"Be gone witch. I have no desire to speak with you now."

"This isn't a time for your desires."

"Indeed, it is not." The sudden hard stare unnerved Hooch a bit. What he truly desired, she could not fathom.

Snape did contemplate his desires for a moment, the roiling storm within him delivering a clear picture of a frantic, pleading glance and the faint sound of his name. Banishing the dream, he steepled his long fingers and rested his elbows on the desk. 

"You really don't want to know this," he said abruptly. "It's not a story you're going to understand, much less care about." Hooch stiffened slightly, and a combative tone crept into her speech.

"I'm not here for your opinions. I want to know what could possibly tempt someone to become a Death Eater."

The silence stretched between them, taut and heavy.

"Power," he finally answered in a low tone. "Power, and the idea I could give myself up to something larger than myself. Knowledge, the ability to go beyond the ordinary magics and do something that could shape history."

Hana opened her mouth, but Snape cut her off without noticing.

"I suppose too, it had much to do with wanting companions that respected me for what I was, and what I could do."

"You wanted friends?" she snorted incredulously. "Go join a bloody Quidditch team or a gardening club. You joined the Death Eaters for friends?!"

"Not all of us are so blessed as you," Snape snarled, fingers tightly clenched. "Do not trivialize what you do not know.

"I understand well how much hate and desire mingle inside. How one can burn for an ideal, even as on recognizes its flaws. How even a flawed ideal can be enough to hold. the ethics of my actions were not so important to me then. The ultimate goal was elegant enough to capture my attention, as twisted as it was. I wanted what anyone wanted, though it took a darker form."

"You sound like those Muggles that rampaged through Europe years ago."

"Perhaps," Snape laughed quietly. "Eugenics and all. Not such a bad description." 

His amusement infuriated Hana, and she rose from the desktop to slam her hands down in front of him.

"All this death is so hilarious to you, isn't it? Did you laugh when you killed them?" Her voice rang shrilly over the stone. 

"Sometimes."

Hana's temper snapped, and she grabbed Snape by the collar of his robes and pulled him upright, almost screaming.

"Damn you!"

The change in Snape was almost as startling. He slipped from her grasp and faced her stonily over the desk. The mocking look was replaced by glacial coolness.

"I am what I am, and not what I was. What I am now is certainly not a convenient target for your unresolved anger Hooch. You have your answer. Now leave me be."

He stepped towards the door, but she moved in front of him.

"I don't care if Dumbledore and the Ministry both believe you are redeemable, I don't care what kind of game you're playing."

"Well there isn't much you are able to do about it. Unless you plan on flying off to Voldemort and speaking with him directly about his wayward protege?"

Blanching but a little at the suggestion, Hooch held her ground. With a raised eyebrow, he continued.

"Never fear, I do suffer for my actions. There are scars that time will not fade." 

"It is not enough." The words broke from her lips involuntarily. He nodded, and regarded her with a thoughtful eye.

"No, it is rarely enough Hana Hooch. Do you intend to make it so?"

The puzzlement in her eyes made him sigh as headed for the door.

"Believe me, it is within your power to do it."

Why had he been so foolish? Why did he say anything at all? What about that damnable woman unhinged him so easily?

Snape cursed as he swept through the corridors of the lower levels. Talking to Hooch would ruin him, or at least leave another scar. Angrily, he paced in his rooms in search of some demanding physical task that would leave him breathless and incapable of thinking too much. 

From one of his shelves, Snape drew down a heavy case. It had been awhile since he last practiced anyways. In his youth, Snape's grandfather, a patrician man of the old generation, had taught him to fence. The gentlemanly art was drilled into him through grueling lessons in the West Hall of the manor every summer. Up, down, they went at it for hours and their reflections battled fiercely alongside them.

He hefted the fine blades one at time, and decided upon the saber. After careful inspection, he stripped to just his simple black trousers and balanced himself. Across the room and back, forward and retreat. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Thrust, parry, and riposte. Soon, Severus quit counting aloud and lost himself in the rhythm of the exercise. His breath and the flick of the blade were the only sound to be heard.


	10. the game changes

Many thanks to JKR as always for setting everything up. Apologies again for the long silence, but it's hard to write when you're translating too much and going to work almost everyday. Thanks especially to Reive for all the conversations.

Life went on, much as it always had at Hogwarts. The halls resounded with the triumphs and disappoints of students, both academic and personal. This year an unprecedented Hufflepuff victory over Gryffindor at Quidditch has upset the entire season, and had the Weasley twins demanding a rematch. Cassandra Daniels, the quiet Hufflepuff Seeker responsible for this controversy, merely shrugged and smiled when asked how she managed the maneuver that helped her beat Potter on the field. 

The Quidditch upset was good for Hana Hooch. It meant the students redoubled their training efforts and she was in demand for extra lessons and coaching. Everyone wanted to know how Cassandra had pulled off that move, and even Hooch was impressed. It wasn't often that someone came up with something on the spot like that, and she made sure to spend more time training the Hufflepuff Seeker. The girl had great potential and Hana wanted to make sure she reached for it. IF nothing else, this had proven that Hufflepuffs could shine as well as anyone else.

Some days though, it felt like she spent more time in the air than on the ground. Today she felt tired and in need of a long bath as she walked back from the fields. 

"Fifty points from Gryffindor for not respecting your elders, Mr. Potter and if you don't stop now it will be detention with Filch as well," Severus snapped, holding his hand up as a warning.

"I know you're hiding something Snape!" Potter's voice was sharp and almost shrill, and it gave Hana a chill to hear it from around the corner.

She walked down the corridor, to where a frantic Hermione Granger and a pale-faced Ron Weasley were desperately trying to pull Harry away from the Potions Master. To his credit, Snape had not raised his voice more than normal and appeared almost calm. Almost if one didn't look too closely at his eyes.

"Mr. Potter, you really don't have to shout in here, you know." Hooch laid a hand on the struggling boy's shoulder and felt the tension in him.

"Professor Hooch, we tried to calm him but…" 

"It's alright Hermione," Hana interrupted. "Why don't you all go down and visit Hagrid? Dumbledore's given him permission to bring in some new beast for the Care of Magical Creatures class." Harry gazed at her a little sadly before allowing his friends to sweep him off. Her keen hearing caught Ron's last whispered bit of conversation.

"I'd rather face whatever monsters Hagrid's got than Snape any day."

Turning back to the dour figure in black, she cocked an eyebrow but remained silent as the footsteps faded away.

"I suppose you will want an explanation, though I hardly need to thank you for saving me from Harry Potter," Snape grumbled.

"I said nothing."

"Well." He smoothed the front of his robes and regarded her with his customary coolness. Sunlight dappled the stone at their feet, and it was quiet even to Hana's ears. 

"What was Harry trying to find out from you?" she finally asked.

"Oh he thinks I have some big secret to hide. I don't know where he would have gotten that idea."

"If you are implying that _I_ said anything to Harry..."

"I suppose not. The boy is hung up on finding out about his parents and all their secrets. For some reason he keeps coming back to me. As if I'm an answer key!" His laugh was bitter.

"You knew his parents?" She was truly curious now.

"Yes, yes," sighed Snape. "We all went to Hogwarts. Can't ever get away from that."

It shocked her a little to be having such a conversation after the glacial silence between them, but she kept still for fear of breaking the moment.

"I knew James and Lily. How could you not? They were the Great Romance of their time. I used to see them sneaking out at night together, trying to wrap themselves in that cloak of his."

She watched his eyes unfocused backwards, to a younger world.

"Lucius once said something spiteful to Lily, some ridiculous adolescent insult at the time. It was during breakfast. Potter cleared two tables to get at him, and it took six professors and all the prefects to break up the fighting. Because, of course, any fight between Gryffindor and Slytherin tends to turn into a riot if left unattended."

His grin was slightly feral as he recalled the morning. Hooch snorted.

"Were you involved?"

"Me? No, I wasn't raised to engage in brawls like that."

"I suppose the son of Aurelius Snape was brought up as a proper gentleman." She eyed him in a slightly mocking manner, one hand on her hip. He responded with a sarcastic smirk and a half nod.

"So how do gentlemen fight? When you're not just murdering for the company of friends and sport, that is."

"Not with women who don't know what they are getting themselves into," he replied very quietly. 

"What more is there to know about you Severus? Do you have even more terrible secrets?"

"Why do you insist on discovering if I have secrets or not woman?"

"Perhaps it just amuses me to no end."

Before she finished speaking, Snape had pushed her up against the wall, both hands on her shoulders. His black eyes never left hers and he leaned in close to her. 

"This amuses you, does it? Would it amuse you even more to play this game with fewer rules, Hana?" His voice was soft, silken in her ear. 

"What rules would we keep?" She fought to keep her hands from trembling.

"That everything that happens stays between us," he murmured. "No unforgivable curses, Nothing so damaging that we need Poppy or Albus's intervention." 

"Alright." Her mouth was dry. 

"We can start tonight, if you like," answered Snape, dropping his hands and stepping back slightly. 

Hooch nodded without speaking. Severus glanced away from her, and in that second she reacted. Her fist connected with his jaw in a very painful way, and the blow staggered him.

"It's not very gentlemanly to push ladies around," she said calmly, shaking her hand a little as she walked away.


	11. preparations

Many thanks as always to JKR for the characters and the setting. This is the brief moment before the storm begins.

Snape decided to inform Dumbledore ahead of time. It was no use hiding anything from him, and perhaps this bit of honesty would keep him from stumbling in at an awkward moment.

"Severus, do you think this wise?"

"I know what you're going to say Albus," he sighed, raking hair back from his face. "We both know what I am does not allow me to make easy decisions."

"I should just not like to see either of you hurt too terribly." The older man's voice was soft, almost paternal. Snape chuckled and looked sideways at the Headmaster. 

"I'm going to have to start ducking faster."

"Hana Hooch has a wicked right hook my friend," Dumbledore laughed heartily. "It's been awhile since I last saw her knock someone out. I'll be sure to visit you in the infirmary later on." The sour expression on Snape's face caused him to laugh even harder.

He desired and dreaded the night. The stars, white flames piercing his eyelids, the shadows falling around him, the moon's pale ascent. He gave himself up, and the night swallowed him.

With cynical detachment, he evaluated the possibilities she offered him, discarding those too fanciful to exist. He played the old game of imagining worlds that never were and never are. 

In the end he decided to wait for her in the Potions lab. It seemed the simplest place to begin, and he could work undisturbed. His stomach clenched when Hana walked into the room. Snape began his litany of pain, reminding himself of exactly why he had chosen to do this.

_She will be your torturer, and you will not find forgiveness._

For once, Hooch felt unsure of herself. She approached cautiously, trying to determine if this was some sort of trap. Her wand remained close at hand, tucked into her belt. She tried not to notice how loud her boots were on the floor in the empty classroom.

"Why do you want to do this?"

"Because you're angry."

"Forgive me if I doubt your philanthropy."

"Think of it as practice then, in case you run into a Death Eater."

"What do you get out of it?"

"Amusement."

She doubted his clipped answer, as much as she doubted many of the things he said. This man had layers tangled up inside, and she wanted to figure out the puzzle.

"Just what are you offering me, Snape?" she asked. 

He was silent for a long moment, regarding her thoughtfully. 

"I am offering you a chance to strike back. Through me, you can get to Malfoy, and if we practice some you might even get to kill him."

"I still don't understand why…"

"Enough!" he snapped. "I'm sick of hearing you ask why this, why that, why Severus why. You're almost as annoying as Potter." 

Robes swirling in his usual grandiose manner, Severus stalked about the classroom picking up things and storing them away by hand, as if he did not trust magic to do the work to his exacting standards. The work seemed to soothe his irritation. With everything neatly cleared, he sat on the edge of his desk, idly handling a long blade. 

"Do you know how to fence Hooch?"

"Unlike you, I didn't grow up in a manor."

"A feeble excuse, but I suppose I'll let it slide. You really should learn. It can be cathartic to duel this way."

"I would have thought you would prefer magical dueling Snape."

"That has its charms too. But this is much more… immediate."

Snape twirled the blade slowly, and with a small flick leveled it with Hooch's throat. She did not blink, or startle. He smiled and laid the weapon on the desk. The dull click of metal on wood reminded her that she was about to start something very dangerous.

"Perhaps I will teach you sometime. I used to fence with Lucius in the summer." He added the last as an afterthought, carelessly.

"Before or after tea?" Hana snorted derisively.

"Usually before. After tea we went out to kill things."


	12. first confession

Many thanks to JKR for this fun world to muck about it. Thanks also to Reive for one of the best lines ever. Hope you like the bizarre antics of Lucius and Severus. I may write a fic just for them later on, but this wouldn't get out of my head. 

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A busy street. The colorful flow of traffic, lives wending seamlessly around each other with the briefest of interactions. Anonymous, and still connected.

Observing the parade of human flesh were two young men casually ensconced in the window of a quiet restaurant. The remains of afternoon tea were spread between them, small blue cups and plates that occasionally whispered amongst themselves. 

Both had sharp features and long hair, pulled back and tied with dark green ribbons. Here their similarities ended. One was fair, with the fine features of an aristocratic portrait and could have passed for the cousin of a Veela. The other had a strong Roman nose and shiny black hair. Chance could not have chosen such a perfectly contrasted couple.

"Any ideas?" Severus Snape picked up the last small sandwich and chewed slowly, as if his jaw might crack through any strenuous exertion. The empty plate skittered over to join its companion on the sideboard. 

"I haven't seen any I liked yet," the other sighed, tapping his long fingers on his sleeve. His pale eyes swept the crowds pushing by on the London street. 

"Your standards Lucius are both too high and too low. I don't know how you do it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Lucuis Malfoy replied absently. 

"Just pick one," Severus grumbled. "It's not like we need to catch a unicorn or something."

"I don't know I rather like that type. They're so… fragile."

The dark haired one sighed and gestured at the tea. The cup chirped happily and filled itself. Snape smiled slightly. As annoying as he found most enchanted household objects, the tea sets at Balanton's amused him. Lucius looked at him from the corner of his eye.

"I don't see why you're complaining, we have all summer."

"I don't plan on spending my summer sitting here waiting for you to make up your mind."

Lucius shrugged and renewed his attention on the street. Absently he straightened the folds of his grey robes. The faintly shimmering fabric smoothed under his fingers, reflecting light from the window.

"You could help me here instead of sulking, you know," he drawled.

"I am not going to help your ridiculous habits and you know that. I might help you with something else though." Snape rested on foot on Malfoy's knee, pushing his leg back and forth with a smile.

"So unhelpful Severus." Lucius sighed theatrically and arched one eyebrow at his companion. "Perhaps I ought to just eviscerate you tonight and rid myself of your charming cynicism."

"And who would help you in arithmacy then?" Snape snorted. Malfoy leaned towards the window.

"What do you think of that one? Standing in front of the pastry shop?" He pointed out a petite red haired Muggle bent towards a window display of petit fours. 

"She'll do. Come on then," Severus replied. He pulled Malfoy to his feet, waved goodbye at the squeaking teacups and headed for the street.

"This is so silly."

"But amusing nonetheless." 

"That doesn't make it any less ridiculous. It's so clichéd."

"I don't see you offering up anything more entertaining."

From their brooms, they observed the frantic young woman scampering through the hedge maze. Lucius had added a few extra things to his mother's garden for their unwilling guest. Mildly impressed that the Muggle had escaped the giant scorpion, Severus wondered how much longer Lucius would insist on this folly. 

They flew lower, as the terrified Muggle girl ran haphazardly through the bushes. She panted, cheeks flushed and scratched. A few leaves were caught in her red curls, and her dress was torn. Somewhere she had lost her sandals, and Severus could see blood and dirt streaking her pale skin. Lucius sighed in contentment at the sight.

"Let's go get her, shall we?"

Will a dull thunk, the girl's corpse slid off the dining table.

"Must you do that?" Lucius inquired acidly.

"She's dead," Severus replied. "What do you want to keep her around for?"

"I don't know." The blond wizard shrugged.

"Don't take up necrophilia Lucius, it's so sordid." Snape sat on the tabletop and picked up a napkin. With a dismissive flick, Lucius took the cloth away, dropping it on the floor. Malfoy flicked his tongue lightly over Snape's pale skin, licking away the smears of blood.

"Stop."

Snape turned back to face Hana Hooch, who looked faintly ill.

"Something upset you my dear?" he sneered.

"Next time I will remember to skip dinner before I visit you. What you did to that girl was absolutely repulsive. Not to mention…"

"What I did with Lucius Malfoy afterwards?" His voice dripped with scorn and amusement. "You're surprisingly prudish Hana."

"Oh shut up Severus." She pressed her fingers to her temples. Her eyes gleamed with amber sparks. "You must have atrocious nightmares."

"Sometimes."

Hooch leaned heavily against the desk. What did he want from her? What was the purpose of these odd confessions? She couldn't figure it out. Her head spun from the vivid images Snape had shared over the past hour. Hana didn't think she could ever look straight at Lucius Malfoy again.

Snape regarded her coolly. She had displayed remarkable control, not interrupting once. It gratified him in some small way, to at least have a willing audience.

"What is the point of telling me all this Severus?" she finally asked, breaking the silence that had comfortably claimed them.

"To make sure you know exactly what I am, so that you don't feel any misguided guilt or affection."

"And why would I feel the need for that?"

"It's not so easy to hurt someone else with complete dispassion." His dark eyes burned.

"You're looking for me to hurt you."

"Isn't that obvious?"

She debated with herself for a moment before approaching him. Snape stayed perfectly still, even when he fingers trailed down the side of his face. She wondered what was behind the brief flash of horror in his eyes when she touched him.

The harsh crack of her hand against his face echoed in the chamber. Blood welled up from the tear in the soft skin of his lip, and spattered the desk when she struck him again, a forceful backhand that jerked his head sideways. In the seconds of echoes and silence, Snape closed his eyes.

"At least you don't go in for a lot of foolish wand waving," he muttered. Snape bit down hard on his bleeding lip as Hooch's fingers tangled in his hair and roughly jerked his head back.

"If I didn't think Dumbledore would mind, I would gladly castrate you right now." 

"I know," whispered Severus. 


End file.
